Reaching for a spoon in the drawer and finding only two left, I remembered I had run the dishwasher the night before. It needed to be emptied, a task I often grumble about. You know, “It just takes so long” --even though it never takes more than a few minutes to return the clean dishes to the cupboards or drawers.
Recently, I’ve been thinking about dishwashers, washing dishes, and a time, for the most part, that has been left behind.
When I was growing up, I was expected to dry the dishes Mom washed and rinsed. She was not one to allow them to air dry—God forbid! So, every night after supper was completed, my mother and I could be found at the kitchen sink as she washed, and I dried.
The towels used to dry were specifically designated for that purpose, a heavy cotton that absorbed the water but never got soaked. They were given treatment relegated for the finest of linens, the unused ones ironed and tucked away in a drawer. Several of them were hand-embroidered, some with days of the week, others with a variety of figures.
My mother never had a dishwasher. In part, it may have been because her kitchen was so small. However, I doubt she would have agreed to such an appliance even if there was space.
Those times at the kitchen sink where Mom and I talked are cherished memories. I don’t remember most of our conversations, but I remember her comment more than once that “Things could be worse.” I must have bared my soul to her, but that was never the response I wanted to hear. I am quite certain she did a lot of listening, as I have always been a talker; she was quiet and softspoken. Often, she would ask, “Are you nice to everyone at school?” She knew her daughter well.
When I was in high school, she helped me study Latin conjugations, English vocabulary words, or facts for a test. The study sheet was propped up in the kitchen window so she could review it with me as she washed.
When holidays or company came the dishes were never stacked and left dirty. They were always dealt with. The small kitchen was filled with women of all ages as they washed, dried, and put dishes away. As I look back, it was a good time, filled with family and friendship, laughter, and chatter.
I must have carried those memories and experiences forward into my own life, as I resisted the use of a dishwasher myself for quite some time. I found the time of cleaning up the kitchen, washing and drying the dishes and putting them away to be therapeutic, a quiet time alone. There isn’t a whole lot of quarreling within a family as to who gets to help with the dishes, and I opted to do them myself.
I am an advocate for spending time alone with oneself and one’s thoughts. I still have memories of sinking my hands into the hot, soapy water, deep in thought as I bared my soul, not to my Mother, but my Creator.
As my family expanded to four children, I consented to using a dishwasher. My own children did not grow up as I did, sharing time at the kitchen sink after a meal. It often happens that way, though, as ways of doing things fall away from one generation to the next, replaced by a completely different method or approach. Some would call it progress.
We live in a culture that operates at breakneck speed, where much of life is instantaneously available. There are positives in this, such as being able to share in my grandgirl’s first dance via text and pictures. However, with a cell phone often at hand, quiet solitude has been sacrificed.
I still feel that time spent alone is invaluable. While I don’t do dishes by hand anymore, that doesn’t keep me from going to that solitary place within.
As with all things in life, finding that kind of time is personal and individual. Many daily activities can be done with no outside distraction--walking, gardening, organizing drawers or cupboards, cleaning out a garage, driving. A time of peace and quiet may be difficult to find in a busy life, but it is available and can be had by all.
It is my conviction that time alone with one’s thoughts before God is the greatest investment that can be made in life. Searching, seeking, questioning, reflecting—true, honest thought. It is priceless, time well spent.
Be still, and know that I am God!
~Psalm 46:10
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